Vendendo Doppio Seeing Double
by HetaliaHour
Summary: Seychelles had seen her fair share of drunks: some got mad, some balled their eyes out, some made drunken passes at her, and some questioned whether they were Catholic or Protestant. She's never once come across a man like Feliciano. A witty lady-killer normal, but when drunk, a pasta-loving, harebrained, goofy, and innocent "boy". 2P! and 1P N Italy (discontinued)
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first fanfiction! So please be gentle with it O-O It features both 2P Italy (or at least, what I think 2P Italy's personality would be. If I'm not anywhere close, I apologize. I was just kind of introduced to this whole 1P/2P thing recently O.e) and regular Italy x Seychelles…As you'll be able to figure out soon. I'm not too sure where I'm going with this, but I should be able to figure it out as I go along o-e (never a good game plan, I know). I know this is a weird pairing and as far as I'm aware, the two countries don't actually have much to do with one another so this is kind of a "crack pairing", but oh well. I figured what the heck, I wanted to write it XD I hope you like it! **

Chapter One

"_It's not polite to stare you know_," the foreign man whispered softly, a teasing edge to his voice. His words broke Seychelles from her trance and he watched appreciatively as a swarm of red crept up her face and to her ears. She fumbled with her outfit, suddenly feeling exposed for no good reason. She shook slightly, chastising herself mentally for it.

"I-I-I'm sorry!" she stuttered apologetically, blushing more as she realized just how flustered she sounded. "I was just…I guess I'm not used to getting anyone here other than the regulars. I was just a little startled that's all. I'm sorry." She took a deep breath to settle herself. "Is there anything I can get you, s-sir?" _Damn it!_ She thought angrily. _Get a hold of yourself, Chelles!_

The man on the other side of the counter smirked slightly and she found herself unable to calm down as she took him in a second time. The newcomer had such unusual features, ones that made her question whether or not they were natural. His hair—a deep shade of reddish auburn—hung straight, falling down just past his ears, a few individual strands making it down to his chin; his eyes—a dark shade of violet—locked with hers, the most in question of all his features; he had a straight nose and his skin was creamy and light . "_You're staring again_," he accused, humored by her once again flushing face. He smiled tauntingly and loosened at the tie constricting him, until it was barely hanging around his neck. Her eyes fixated on his smooth skin and found something almost alluring about the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he talked. She blushed.

"I-I'm sorry. Wh-what can I get you?" She was so glad most of the tavern's crowd had cleared out. She was embarrassing herself horridly with her face turning a shade of red every five seconds.

"Hmm, would I be foolish to assume you carry wine here?" he leaned forward, raising one of his eyebrows slightly and sending a bunch of butterflies loose inside of her. She swallowed.

"I'm sorry, we don't carry wine here."

"Oh." He leaned back, obviously disappointed with her answer. He rested his face against his palm and looked at her. He paused briefly as if mulling something over and then continued, "Just give me what you will then. I don't care what you give me I just want something to drink."

"U-uh…sure. One second please, sir." The barista gave a faint smile to be polite, though none of it reached her eyes. She felt uneasy around this man and a good part of her wished that he would've left by now. She would give him a beer, he would drink it down maybe two or three swigs, and then he would pay and be off. She told herself this and sighed, returning with his drink and placing it before him.

He examined it with distaste, looking over it with a sickened expression. A second or two went by and then he brought the bitter liquid up to his lips and to Chelles' surprise, chugged it down all at once. He exhaled sharply, slamming the mug down on the counter and then looking up back up at the island girl behind the counter. "Hit me up again." He said flatly and heavily accented.

She did as told and watched as he did the same with this round as he had done with the first. She watched him and her curiosity got the better of her.

"Where are you from?" She'd never been to a world conference, so the only countries she knew of were England and France.

He looked at her, something that looked like a mixture of shock and disbelief burning in his eyes. "You don't know who I am?" his words sounded harsh and mad, but there was an edge of curiosity to them.

"Not to be rude, but no."

"I'm from North Italy." he said sharply.

"I-Italy…" she whispered to herself, throwing the name around in her head, trying to match it up to somewhere, _something_, but nothing came. She didn't want to make him angry and nodded at him slightly. "Oh. _Ital__y_."

He sighed and looked down at his empty mug. "More."

She nodded, hesitantly taking his cup and refilling it for the third time.

"What's your name?" he asked sultrily, staring at her. His eyes locked with hers and she could see him checking her out, undressing her with his eyes. She wondered if he was drunk and decided that he must be to be looking at her like that.

"I—I go by Chelles." She handed him his drink after filling it up.

"Chelles," he tried the name out on his tongue, staring down at the beer in front of him. He looked up. "I'm Feliciano." He purred, looking at her seductively. "You can call me _Feli_ though, _amor__e_."

He didn't give her a second to reply before he had chugged down this round, too. Three rounds turned into four which turned into five and eventually led to six.

On his sixth round, Chelles noticed his face starting to flush. His hair had started to look slightly disheveled and his eyes—whether this was purely her imagination or not—had started to turn a light amber color.

"A-are you okay?" she asked nervously. No way was someone going to die—did random eye color changes signal dying? And could countries even die? Chelles didn't know—right here in her bar. She didn't want something like that on her hands.

"Veee, I feel fine!" the man spoke, startling Chelles with his sudden change in voice.

"Uh…um…If you say so… Don't push yourself drinking though, okay?" Her voice was laced with genuine concern now.

"Ahahaha, you're so funny, _ve_! Oh! I forgot to ask you! Do you serve _pastaaaaaa_ here?" he smiled like a young school boy and Chelles was shocked to see one stray hair spring up from the rest of his head and curl in the air. She blinked twice at the changing man before her.

"How is that…?" she began, trailing off.

"It's a shame you don't come to any of the meetings, ve! You seem really nice _Sey-chan_!" The man was now sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce on the bar stool.

"S-Sey-chan?" Seychelles sputtered confused, wondering just what in the hell she was witnessing here. Who was this perpetual eight-year-old beaming at her with the same features as the woman killer who'd been making moves on her only minutes ago? …Not that she didn't prefer this to before, but it was a little disconcerting.

"_Sì_! You know, there are Germany, America, France, England, and all the others there and they are all very nice, ve!" "U-uh, yeah," Chelles smiled nervously, wincing at his sudden verbal tic. "I bet they would all be very happy to have a pretty girl like you there, ve!" She blushed lightly, embarrassed that he could cause this even in this…_weird…_state he was in now. He looked down at his empty cup—shocking her for the…_what was it now_? _Third, fourth, _fifth time?—by turning his mug over completely, looking for a drop. He found none. He looked up at her sadly, asking her sweetly, "C-can I have some more, ve? It's very good…well, no, it's not. It's kind of bitter. Wine tastes better. But I would like a refill of this." "Um…" was all the woman could say. Could she deny the customer what he ordered? But…this was turning out to be no ordinary customer. "Okay," she gave in finally, not immune to his puppy-dog face. He beamed up at her as she gave Feli his seventh glass. "You should probably stop after this…" This was starting to cross the line of weird and deeply concerning. She'd seen all different kinds of people drunk (some got mad and tried to start fights with one another, some started sobbing uncontrollably, some made passes at her…drunken passes, and England even startled rambling on about whether he was Catholic or Protestant…he honestly didn't even know…), but this…this was the first time she'd witnessed something like this. She'd never seen someone…just switch personalities like this. It was like she was looking and talking to and serving someone completely new. He nodded, bringing the drink up to his lips and taking a small sip. He was no longer aggressively gulping it down, but taking his time. "I," he paused, looking at Seychelles. "I—" The man got a hazy look to him as he fumbled around on his stool, trying to form the rest of his sentence. "_I_—" he tried, but failed once again, this time, though, tipping over his drink, and falling to the floor. "_Oh merde_! Are you okay?" Chelles demanded, running from behind the counter to the fallen customer. He lay, unconscious but breathing, on the ground. Chelles tried waking him up, looking around nervously at the now empty tavern. The bar would be closed here shortly. What was she to do with a drunken, unconscious Italian lying on her floor?

**Welp, that was the first chapter! Thank you for reading! Please, please, please, please review! I want to stay motivated to write this story, but I can't get better nor can I stay motivated if no one reviews. ): **


	2. Chapter 2

***The words "writer's block" pop up in bright letters with fireworks shooting off in the background* Yep, I had a serious case of writer's block with this chapter -_- I guess I should've tried to figure out where I was going with this in the first chapter. I'm being totally honest when I say I rewrote this three times (each time totally different) and wasn't really happy with any of the versions. Anyhoo, there's some fluff going on in the beginning and to be honest, it was my favorite part to write. **

**Oh, I almost forgot! I was so happy to get reviews on the first chapter! **

**Reply Time:**

**British West Florida-IggyXUS****: Aww…England is a mommy XD And thank you for "stalking" my story XD It stalks you back O.o just kidding :DD lol**

**AwesomeHellee9: Thank you! And I love ItaSey as well :3 So adorable!**

**LilDeadKitty: Thank you! And yes, I agree, sadly this pair is so neglected and doesn't have a lot of fanfiction. That is one of the primary reasons I wanted to write this :D**

**GreenTeaVodkaWineBeer: I'm glad you enjoyed it!:D**

**Now on with the show!X3**

Chapter Two

It was at two thirty that she heard the door creak open and felt the Italian crawl slowly in bed with her, squirming around on her mattress and nestling himself under her covers.

She groaned; he had been doing this since one o' clock in the morning.

He rolled around on the mattress some more, fluffing and turning over the pillow underneath him again and again. He paused for a moment and then scooted his pillow an inch from hers and fell back onto it. She groaned again.

Every time she had dragged the perpetual ten year old back to his spot on the couch, it was only a minute or so before he snuck his little persistent self back into her room, pulling up the blanket and hopping in bed with her again.

So—shooting an angry look at the alarm clock by her bed— it was at two thirty-one exactly that Seychelles had just flat-out given up and let the Mediterranean nation stay in bed with her. Though she wasn't too keen on having a man—as childish as this man was turning out to be—snuggled up beside her in bed, she could not keep dragging him back to the couch for the entire night. So she let him stay. As much as it displeased her, she needed the sleep and she didn't have the heart to throw the kid-like man out. Doing so, in her mind, was the equivalent of throwing out an abandoned child…or kicking a puppy. She didn't want to kick a puppy.

"Fine." she obliged under her breath.

"Mmm…"the Italian murmured happily, his mumble soon being accompanied by a quiet, dreamlike "veee". He writhed around on the bed slightly, trying to get himself comfortable. To her displeasure, he found comfort snuggled up right against her, one leg kicked up over her waist. The action in itself wasn't a crude gesture; she could tell he was like a child, and he was simply getting comfy. Regardless, she felt herself turning beat red as he removed the space between them. Tentatively, she put her hand on his leg, flushing more as he let out a sigh. She slowly lifted it off of her, back to his side of the bed. A second or two went by and the leg kicked back up over her and she knew there was no fighting it.

"Veee…." He murmured contently again in his sleep, grabbing a hold of her tightly like she was some sort of teddy bear. He nuzzled his head against her back and she felt him squeeze a little tighter at her torso. She threw a look over her shoulder and saw how happy he looked in his sleep, how innocent and oblivious. Thinking back to how he looked first coming into the bar, how intimidating he had seemed then—_this_… well…she never expected something like_ this_ would be happening between them. "Mmm…" he let out once more and she scowled, knowing now there was a good chance she'd never be able to fall asleep.

She had, surprisingly enough, fallen asleep. Though, it was inevitable that she would, with how tired she had been the other day. Chelles batted an eye open slowly, her brain replaying all of the previous events that had taken place the night before. She tried to filter out what was real and what had been a dream, but found to her dismay that everything that had played out had most definitely happened.

Feeling as if a weight she'd felt all night had lifted, Seychelles turned curiously to see if the young man was still asleep. There was no leg over her, no hands on her waist, and as she turned she saw that there was also no man sleeping next to her either.

She got up groggily, slipping on her house shoes. Either he'd left…or he'd just been a figment of her imagination. She wondered absentmindedly if she was becoming like England and if she'd start to have imaginary people floating around her all the time. She groaned; the man didn't seem to be the same as a flying green mint bunny, but who knew.

She felt her stomach rumble and walked over tiredly to the kitchen, stopping halfway as something tickled her nose. She took another breath in and felt her stomach rumble more at the scent. Someone was cooking.

She picked up her pace, curious to see what it was. A part of her hoped he had stayed and the smell wasn't a figment of her imagination. She stopped as she saw him, spoon in hand, taking a small taste test of the food he'd made. He paused as he saw her and blushed slightly. He turned his face away from her, looking down at the saucepot instead. "_Hello_." He half mumbled, half snapped at her. He hadn't turned away from her fast enough for her not to notice that his eyes had returned to their original color.

"G-good morning…_I-Italy_."

"Feliciano." he corrected bitterly, meeting her eyes for a split second, before averting them back to the food. "Where do you keep your spices?" he asked monotonously.

"Spices?" she mumbled. "I don't believe I have many of those."

"I see." he said deadpan. He cleared his throat before speaking again. He changed the subject. "I apologize if I acted…er…_weirdly_ last night. I don't remember. But I've been told I sometimes… do… when I'm drunk or when…" he trailed off, still not looking at her. There was something a little edgy about his voice. "Anyway, I wanted to let you know I'll be…staying here for a while. I want to assure you keep quiet about this."

"What?" Seychelles asked, dumbstruck. "You can't just—"

He continued as if she hadn't spoken at all, "I'm sure you won't mind if we share the same bed. I woke up and you had your arm around me. I don't know if we—"

"No! No! We didn't do _anything!_"

"Okay good. I _had kind of assumed you'd raped me_. And I was going to tell you that if you wanted me that badly, you should tell me when I'm not drunk and that for a ruler such as myself I should be the one doing the raping and not the one getting—" he was rambling nonsense now.

"I didn't rape you!" Chelles snapped through clenched teeth. "You came in and crawled into _my _bed! And I am not going to allow you to stay here!"

He ignored her. "I believe the pasta is done."

"Don't just change the subject!" But at that moment her stomach growled furiously again and she couldn't help but eye the pasta he'd prepared.

"Well, I'm staying here." He told her, matter-of-factly. "I don't quite trust you yet to stay quiet and I don't want you blabbing about…th-that weird thing I sometimes do…to other people. So I'm here to watch you like a hawk and make sure you keep your trap shut." He looked around for plates and eventually found some in the top second cabinet. He pulled out two and started to plate the food. He looked over and found her still not moving. "You should really eat; your stomach is starting to talk to me."

She blushed but said nothing.

He smirked teasingly. "And when you're done, I expect you to go out and buy me spices. I have to live here too, y'know."

She glared up at him; she'd liked him better as a bumbling idiot.

**Yep. I know. I know. The ending to this chapter seems a little rushed. Oh well. And yes. I know. The whole thing about Italy thinking Seychelles raped him is stupid…but oh well. It's all written down now. :D There's nothing I can do (*cough*****I could**** fix it…but I'm too lazy ). Anyways, please continue to review! I need the motivation to continue o.o ****it's stupid but I can't really write without it. **


	3. Chapter 3

**This took a good while to write because every time I wrote it and read it over I just wasn't satisfied with it. **

**Reply Time!**

**GreenTeaVodkaBeer: I tried; believe me I tried. I didn't make it too "hot" I don't think though (cough it's not hot at all really lol although I tried cough). The next chapter may be though! As long as you guys want that and don't think it's too soon o.o**

**BritishWestFlorida-IggyXUS: Please don't tell BWF what rape means O-O BWF must not be corrupted by my fanfic! XD And yee! I have the exact same hat! *puts on my stalking hat***

**LilDeadKitty: I agree, 1p Italy is adorable :3 And hehe, that was my favorite line to write XD**

**Well, on with the show~!**

Chapter Three

"Do you want me to feed you?" the Italian nation asked crossly. He'd been watching the Seychellois girl struggle to pick the pasta up with her fork for a while now. Only a small part of him found it cute. The other, more dominate part of him was growing frustrated at her incapability of eating food. _His food_. He leaned over towards her from the opposite end of the table. "You _can_ use a fork…right?" he asked curiously, poking fun.

She looked up at him heatedly before stabbing at the noodles again. "Yes." she spoke through clenched teeth. "I don't eat with my hands if that is what you're suggesting. I also wear shoes and shower daily and—"

He cut her off, "I only asked if you could use a fork. I didn't ask whether or not you were a barbarian."

She winced slightly at the mention of "barbarian". That's how some people had perceived her as in the very beginning. When she was found, she hadn't used forks nor had she worn shoes nor had she showered. She was all alone, uninhabited and unaware of all these things. It wasn't until she'd been introduced to everything that she began to grow… It was different now, right? She had been trained to be a lady—to have etiquette and manners. She was now very much independent and very much moving forward with her life. Chelles glared up at him. She could also damn well use a fork too if she wanted.

Seychelles hesitantly brought the noodles up to her mouth, a couple falling off her fork in the process. She managed to get maybe two in and she looked up at him as if to say, _"__See? I did it.__"_

He didn't look as proud as her at her accomplishment.

"You don't eat it like that." He corrected, standing up and walking over to her side of the table. He bent down beside her, taking the fork out of her hands, twirling the noodles around it and holding it up in the air.

"Open your mouth." It wasn't a question. His violet eyes bore into hers.

She held her stance and stared up at him defiantly, shaking her head no. She opened her mouth to protest. _Don't belittle me! So what if I don't twirl my fork around my food so daintily like you d—_

He jumped at the chance, grabbing her chin with his hands, and sticking the food in her mouth. "Now chew and swallow." He withdrew the fork from her mouth and got a helping for himself.

She watched him stick her fork in his mouth. "It's good." he said, complimenting himself. He looked at her, confused at the shocked expression on her face. "What?"

"That's_ my_ fork you just stuck in your mouth!" she said dumbstruck.

He looked at it, sticking it back in his mouth for a second. "Yes it is…" he noted, sounding slightly amused with himself. He looked over at her, smugly at first, but then soon narrowed his eyes. He was now fixating on something on her face, and he set the fork down. He got in close, holding her shoulder to keep her from squirming away from him. "You've got something on your face." He informed her, leaning in. He pulled her face to his, examining her cheek. "You shouldn't let good pasta go to waste." he scolded.

He leaned in, running his finger lightly across her skin and wiping off the excess sauce. He then brought his finger up to his lips and then licked at it with his tongue. "_I got it for you_."

She looked at him, trying to stop her hand from shaking as she raised it up to where he'd…where he'd…

"W-what the hell was that?" she asked him, her voice shaking.

"You're welcome."

"I never thanked you!" she snapped.

"Then my apologies." He smiled sarcastically. "I assumed you didn't know how to use a napkin either so I thought I best help you out." He ignored her glare and got up, walking over the pantry at the corner of the room and opening it. "I noticed you had wine in here…"

She was getting ticked with him constantly changing the subject like that but she answered anyway. "Francis left that. Whenever he visits he brings me things."

There was a pregnant silence.

"Does he visit often?" Feliciano finally asked; there was something slightly irritable about his voice.

"Only once or twice a year."

"Oh," was all he said. He didn't pay her much attention as he examined the wine bottle in his hands. He turned. "I wanted to let you know that I'm keeping this and I don't intend on sharing. I need this to get the disgusting taste of the beer you gave me out of my mouth. It's still lingering on my tongue from yesterday."

The audacity. She shook her head; she could play this game as well.

"Now that you remind me of it, you never did pay for that 'disgusting beer'. You passed out before I could charge you."

He looked at her. "Did I now?" he mused. He made a move to pull out his wallet from his back pocket. "Come here. I'll pay you now."

She blinked not thinking he would oblige this easily. She walked forward, hand outstretched. "O-okay. The full total turned out to be about sixty—" she was cut off by a pair of hands pulling her forward and pair of warm lips pressing up against the corner of her mouth. They lingered there for a second, playing with her before he finally pulled away; his breath hot and sticky on her face.

"Think of that as payment. The sauce wiping earlier was a tip."

She glowered at him. "That is not payment!" she yelled.

He smirked, "Did you want a full kiss on the lips?"

"No!"

He raised an eyebrow. "A French kiss than…?" he decided. "My my, aren't you the feisty type?"

"No!" she yelled. "I wanted actual payment with actual money."

"Fine," he groaned, "then think of that then as us getting even."

"Even for what?" she demanded.

He shook his head at her, making tsk-tsk noises. "Even for raping me of course."

She kicked him angrily. "I told you I never did that you jack ass!"

He tsk-tsked again. "My my, such a temper you've got on you Goldilocks."

"Goldilocks?" she questioned.

He ignored her, taking the bottle of wine from the counter he'd set it on and walking away.

"W-_where are you going_?" she yelled at him, still an odd combination of flustered and seething with rage.

He looked at her from over his shoulder, "To my room. Why don't you go and take this opportunity to buy spices for me now?" His room? He'd already claimed her room for himself?

She grit her teeth, _damn this man!_

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

She did, reluctantly enough, go out and buy some spices and seasonings—but not for him, only to get out of the house. The house for her had always been somewhere she could relax and feel calm, but now she didn't want to even breathe the air in there. So she stormed out and went and bought some stupid spices.

None of which though, she was more than happy to point out, were _Italian_ spices. She bought Mexican seasoning, Nutmeg, chili pepper, and Paprika and she'd sure as hell like to see him try and make pasta out of all of _that_.

She came home with the groceries and slammed them on the counter. The idiot must've not even have heard her come in. She was a little ticked off at that because she'd wanted to rub in all the incorrect spices she'd gotten, but there he was out of sight.

"I'm back." she announced, a little too loudly.

She got nothing.

She groaned, walking to her room and stopping at the door. She felt like an idiot, but she gave the door a good two to three knocks before turning the handle. "Are you still drinking in here?"

She looked down in utter shock as the empty wine bottle came rolling her way. She picked it up. "You bastard! You drank this whole thing? What are you an _alcoholi_—?"

She stopped midsentence. Feliciano was sprawled out on the floor, watercolor and paper spread out all around him in a circle as he slowly looked up at her. His eyes were light amber and they sparkled in the dim lighting. "Ah! Sey-chan! Hello! I was just drawing you ve!"

"_Where did you get all of that_?" she snapped, instantly feeling bad as Feli looked at her hurt. She recomposed herself. "Where did you get all that paper?" she asked him again sweetly.

He looked up, tapping his chin curiously. He flipped one of his "masterpieces" over, "This one has something to do with taxes I think and I think this one is a diploma, ve?" He didn't give his words a second thought and continued doodling. She gaped at him but he didn't seem to notice.

He held up a picture for her. "You're so pretty ve! I've been drawing you! This one is you on the beach"—he picked up his other artworks—"and this one is you in a swimsuit. And this is my favorite, ve!" He handed her his most recent work.

"What is this?" she asked, slightly deflated at the thought that it was drawn on the back of her Master's Degree. The drawing looked like a bunch of shapes and random brush strokes.

"Oh! That's supposed to be me and that's you. You're in a white puffy dress because we're getting married ve!"

She became flustered. "You drew us getting m-married?"

"Sì!" he said happily. "And we shall have lots of little mini Italys and mini Seychelles!"

She blushed harder, wondering if he could even comprehend the words coming out of his mouth and what those words implied.

"I will be a good daddy too and I will make them pasta so they grow up big and strong!"

She couldn't help but giggle at this nonsensical man and she leaned forward to tousle his hair. A strand popped up from the rest and she watched it curl in the air. He was silent, but after a minute he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer.

"Seychelles, _you're so pretty_." he said once again, suddenly more serious than before. He ran his free hand down her cheek. "I'm sure if we had any children they would most definitely be beautiful like you, ve."

"I-Italy, I—I—"she stammered.

He moved his hand so that his finger slowly traced the outline of her lips. "If I married you, I would be so happy ve." His finger stopped at the middle of her bottom lip and they parted slightly. He leaned over her, pinning her to the floor and spilling some of the watercolors around him as he did so. "Seychelles…" he murmured, beginning to plant kisses down her neck hungrily. She could feel his weight on top of her and the pounding of his heart against hers.

"Italy?"

**Mwahahaha! Evil cliff hanger inserted! I don't know how good of one it is, but hopefully it got you interested at least a tiny bit for the next chapter. O-o For some reason it's so much fun to write 1p Italy. I'm also a little confused if later on I'll change the rating. Though I highly doubt it, it may happen. But I don't think so. :S Anyhoo, remember to review! It means so much to read everyone's thoughts and comments and it's really what keeps me going to continue writing ^-^**


	4. Chapter 4

**Yay! This chapter was so much easier than the others to just crank out! In fact, it's hands down been my favorite one to write (though at times it was a little awkward o.e). It features 1p! Italy, 2p! Italy…and a special guest *dramatic drum roll of anticipation*. I tried very hard with this chapter. Just a quick notice here, there may or may not be a new chapter tomorrow because tomorrow is my birthday (fifteen, yay!) and I may not have time. Anyhoo, it's time for replies XD**

**GreenTeaVodkaWineBeer: I'm glad that you stalk my story X3 Stalkers are always welcome! And yes, with this chapter you will get 2p! and 1p! dominant streak. So I hope you enjoy it. :D**

**Emohgee: Thanks for following me on my tumblr and "stalking" my story as well! :D It's very much appreciated!**

**THEfanficreader: I'm so sorry! I hope you don't indeed die of anticipation o.o You're right, I don't want a death on my hands! And it means a lot that you like my story!**

**Guest (I guess you know who you are? :D): Thank you! I'd be so grateful if you did decide to spread this around to others. (*Russia voice* My story wants to become one with all of you o-e). I hope you like this chapter(:**

**Ayumi Kudou: Hmm, that's funny. I also envision 2p! Italy that way! And I don't know yet if I'm going to include Germany and Japan, I'll have to think about it.**

**British West Florida-IggyxUS: Curse you Hungary for corrupting a seven year old with my story! That's just pure evil! D: And on a side note, I'm happy you enjoyed my last chapter :)**

Chapter Four

"I—Italy?" Seychelles stammered, staring up incomprehensively at the Italian nation in lack of what else to say.

He laid over her, one hand on her wrist pinning her down and the other wrapping around her waist and pulling her up to his chest. He didn't reply, still kissing down her jaw and neck tenderly before retracting and staring into her eyes. He leaned in and she met his eyes for a split second, taking him in with a heavily beating heart.

This Italy was just as attractive as the sober one had been walking into her bar. Only she didn't like to think of this man as Feli's drunk self…but almost as if a completely other side to himself he wouldn't show her normally. She felt like this was the true him.

His eyes were so bright against the darkness, a deep amber hue that they seemed to light up the room around him and she could see him clearly. She took in his light olive, soft-looking skin and was surprised as she felt the tight muscles underneath press up against her; his lips were so soft and so plump, kissing her lightly, but they delivered with each peck such raw, unharnessed emotion on her skin; _he was beautiful_ as much as it embarrassed her to think it.

He pressed himself harder against her, releasing her wrist only to reposition his hand behind her head, his other still at her waist making light patterns on her skin with the trace of his finger. He had moved his attention to the side of her face and nibbled at her ear slightly, satisfied with the small yelp she let out. Feliciano kissed the spot that he'd bitten, looking back and enjoying the blush on the Island nation's face.

She opened her mouth to once again try to get his attention, get him off her. It's not like she …it's not like she didn't….it's not like she didn't _want_ this is a strange way, but her common sense was telling her she should put a stop to this. She didn't know him enough yet. She felt like she did, but her mind was chanting, "_Only one day, only one day; you've__ only __known this man for __one__ day__…"_ So she opened her mouth to protest what he was doing.

He pounced at the opportunity, grabbing her mouth with his own and engaging in an almost battle-like struggle between them. She fought against his, but he kept the two together, entwined with one another. He moaned against her mouth and she turned a bright scarlet red, finding it hard now to keep her heart from ripping its way out of her chest.

_"And we shall have lots of mini Italys and mini Seychelles!"_the words he'd said replayed themselves in her mind, looping around and around dizzily as he kissed her and kissed her, pulling away only for seconds to catch his breath before pressing his lips against hers again. "_I would be so happy, ve_."

She'd wondered before if he knew what he was talking about when he said that, but his tongue trying to force entrance once again into her mouth and his hand now running down her thigh told her that he knew very well.

For a split second she managed to break away but he pulled her back, stronger. She couldn't tell, but something seemed different now, he seemed more aggressive. He pushed her back on the ground and nibbled and bit at her neck, hard enough that she winced slightly. He looked back, examining his work. She didn't have a chance to meet his eyes before he was kissing her again. Much harder than before and with much more force than she thought possible. He let out a low predatory moan against her lips before placing his hand…before he placed his hand…over…_her chest_….

That was enough! She pushed him as hard as she could and to her relief he was caught off guard and fell backwards.

She met his eyes then and gasped. They were no longer amber but a dark, hungry violet.

"Thanks for sobering me up babe." he purred teasingly, wiping the leftovers of the kiss from his lips. He smirked at her flustered state approvingly.

She tried desperately to keep her voice from hitching as she spoke, "Y-you idiot!" She blinked back her frustrations building up in the corners of her eyes and grit her teeth together. "_You _idiot!"

Before he could say anything, the doorbell ringed, catching them both off guard. She jumped slightly, standing up with shaky legs and making at least two failed attempts before finally opening the door with her trepid fingers. She managed to slam it shut. "C-coming!" she called, leaving the violet-eyed man alone in the room. He turned and looked over confused at the water colorings behind him.

OoOoOoOoOoO

"Hello?" Seychelles called out nervously, opening the door a crack.

"Bonjour, ma belle fille!" a Frenchman's voice called out, pushing at the front door and opening it all the way. The shaggy, blonde-haired man beamed up at the Island nation and stepped inside. "It has been long, non? I was so overcome by grief of not seeing you that I 'zought to myself, why not pay my da-rling _petite fille_ a _vis_it? And so here I am!"

"F-Francis…now…er," Chelles paused, "might not be the best time to visit…I'm a little…" she trailed off.

"Nonsense! You and I can go down to the beach and we can have fun! Just like old times! What do you say?"

"I don't know…I…I still don't think this is the best time…I'm a little…"

The French nation had none of this. "Seychelles, you don't know how hard 'eet has been all day at conferences with that good-for-nothing Eng—" he stopped short, his eyes trailing to her neck. "What is that?" he asked, his voice alarmed.

Seychelles followed his eyes down to the nape of her neck. To her dismay there was a bright red mark. It didn't take an idiot to see it was kiss-inflicted. It was more than obvious for someone as experienced in the "arts of love" as France so boasted he was, to see that she had a hickey.

"What is that?" Bonnefoy asked again, more demanding this time. This time he was pointing. "Who made that on you?"

She flushed, trying to come up with a lie on the spot. "I—I _fell._" she said finally. "I fell on my neck…" She realized just how stupid it sounded after she'd said it and instantly regretted opening her mouth.

Francis looked at her with skepticism. He asked, bitterly, "And then did the ground kiss you all over and love-bite you on the neck?"

She knew she was screwed now. "Francis…I…I…It's not what you think big brother Francis…"

"I've made enough of those to know what that is! _Don't lie to me_." He looked at her angrily, showing an emotion that any protective guardian would. Sure, he was the country of love, but it didn't feel right for someone to be making moves on his…she was practically like his daughter!

"I…I'm…." she fumbled around with her thoughts, feeling like she was being buried six feet under with every word that she uttered. "I…it's not what you think, I…really big brother Francis…it's…."

"Who did it?" he finally snapped. "Who did this to you?"

There was a brief silence and Seychelles said nothing. She stared up at him blankly, afraid and unwilling of opening her mouth.

As he walked in, both their heads turned. The Italian nation walked in calmly and coolly despite the situation playing out all around him. He locked his violet eyes with the furious rough blue waves of Francis' and spoke, his voice shattering the silence around them. "I did it."

"Italy?"

**DUN DUN DUN! Cliffhanger inserted once again! What shall happen? And yes, the mystery guest was none other than Francis Bonnefoy! *expecting applause but only gets crickets* Sorry, France, I think everyone just wanted more ItaSey adorableness. Oh well.:D See you next time and please please review! It means so much to read and see what you guys think! It's very motivational ^_^**


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